𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 | Gally | BOOK 2

Chapter Two

I laid in the box motionless, carefully listening for any movement outside. I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I finally decided to do something about the situation. My arms had never felt so weak. With whatever strength I could conjure up I pushed the top of the box as hard as I could. I was like trying to lift a cement block with paper arms. The lid refused to budge.

I needed to get out. I had no idea where I would end up. Maybe I'd regret leaving the isolation of this coffin the moment I got out of it. Maybe there would be nothing for me on the other side. I could've been totally alone. There had to be someone out there for me. Gally could be looking for me.

I was quickly struck by the reminder of his death. I should've relished those few minutes where I'd forgotten about him. The image of his dying body came back to me. The face he made the moment before his chest was struck by that damned pole haunted my memory. The way Minho reached out for my hand after he'd just murdered one of our own enraged me.

The already cramped space was starting to close in on me. I grunted as I pressed my arms and knees against the top with all the strength I had. The pulse monitor screamed frantically. If I couldn't get out to find Gally, I was going to avenge him. The more I pushed, an awkward ache formed in the back of my shoulder. Eventually, a satisfying pop came from the lid's suction. One side slowly rose up, allowing fresh blue light to shine through the crack. I waited, unsure of whether or not this escape would be worse than I formerly believed. Carefully, I slipped my fingers through the seal and slowly lifted it up. With hesitation, I rose my head and looked out into the world that greeted me.

I didn't know what to do at this point. I hadn't thought much further ahead than this. I wasn't sure if I should allow myself to believe what my eyes were seeing. In front and all around me kids, who appeared to be no older than I was, hung in rows from the ceiling. These strange contraptions where holding them in by the shoulders and waist, none of the kids were conscious.

The scene in front of me was hauntingly familiar. I remembered. They day they took me up. The day they took me up to the box I had woken up, barely. The picture slowly came to me, but it was fuzzier than before. As the doctors pushed me away, I'd seen rows and rows of kids laying down. I was sure their memories were being wiped at the time, it wasn't much different than what was right in front of me. 

I felt like I shouldn't have been there. A grubby feeling grew in my stomach, like I wasn't supposed to be seeing what was presented in front of me. I sat up and lifted my aching legs over the side of my capsule and pushed myself up, I was already exhausted and wanted to lie back down. I forced myself to hop down. I had underestimated how weak I really was. The second my feet touched the ground and relied on my legs to hold me up, they gave out on me. Luckily, no one else was in the room to see my embarrassing fall. The floor was freezing cold, fitting for the eerie room.

Carefully allowing each leg to adjust, I stood up and leaned against the capsule I just escaped from. My shoulder continued to ache as I kept most of my weight on my arms to stay balanced. Next to mine, seven other cots where laid out. The little glowing panel on each of them beeped out of synch. It was safe to assume there were kids inside those ones too.

Keeping my hand on the coffin-like cots for support, I staggered down the room. All around me, kids were hanging. A slop formed in my stomach, it was absolutely horrifying to see. Beginning to rely on my legs again, I let go and stumbled across the room to the start of one of the many rows. The first patient was a boy. He was frail and his straight black hair fell over his forehead. He was unconscious. A series of tubes were stuck to his head and intertwined into the contraption that was holding him up. A thick white breathing tube was attached to his mouth and joined the other cords. To the left of him, a small glass jar was half full of a strange blue liquid. Little drops dripped from the top of the jar, which was attached to cords that were attached to his arm, covered by a black arm band. The whole procedure was complex. All the other teenagers had the same machinery with them. I looked back at the pod that I had just crawled out of. I probably wouldn't be far off if I guessed that this was going to happen to me.

A hard thunk of the doors came from the side of the room, catching me off guard. Two more rows of kids blocked part of my view of the entrance. A short, stalky woman dressed in a long white coat turned the corner and started walking in my direction, nurses with a few more patients being pushed in those same pods followed suit.

Without much time to think or spare, I crept over to my cot, and fit myself back in. I closed the lid just enough to leave the tiniest opening.

"Over here." A stern woman's voice said. I assumed it was the lady who was leading. Her footsteps on the cold, hard floor and wheels of the hospital beds were the only sounds added to the room, "Janson wants them ready for tonight."

The new set of beds rolled across the floor and banged into mine, closing the lid shut once again. Shit, I thought. I pushed it back up ever so slightly, it was looser this time.

"There's no way they'll be ready for harvest by the time Ava arrives." another voice added. This one was raspier, and more annoying.

The first voice spoke up again, "Well then, let's get more kids in here." The clopping of footsteps continued, but this time they were getting quieter as they left the room in a hurry.

Confident that no one was left, I popped the top open once again. What the hell did they mean by harvest? I jumped out, hoping my feet would actually hold me up this time, which they did.

Not too far from me, something caught my eye. I walked over to it and picked up the small, square card. Someone must've dropped it. It read, Dr. A. Mitchell, with a photo of the stern woman's face right beside it. She wasn't smiling. This didn't seem like a place were people smiled a lot. In the corner of the card in big bold letters said, WICKED.

It couldn't be. I was back right where I started. We'd just escaped, but it had all been one big illusion. It felt like someone just punched me right in the chest and hit a reset button, everything we worked for was pointless. Three long suffering years, for nothing. All the gladers scarified for our very escape, left wasted.

With anger and frustration boiling up inside of me once again, I slammed the lid to my bed. This was the last time I was going to wake up in an unfamiliar place by the hands of WICKED.

I stormed around cords, pillars and hanging patients until I reached the entrance. The blue lights from above shown down on the control panel as I waved the woman's card across it. It let out another beep and the doors slid open for me. Taking a frustrated breath I crept through the door, not daring to look back at the sinister room and stepped into a wave of white fluorescent light.